The Ficus, the Hunter, and Me
by Spitfireness
Summary: Response to the Bounty Hunter challenge on the HMS O&U. Hermione's on Blaise's trail...


**The Ficus, the Hunter, and Me**  
  
Details, Hermione mused philosophically, were essential to living well. She explained to Blaise, years later, that any and all desires could be fulfilled if one paid attention to the details. Failure to observe? Well, that proved the old adage about the devil absolutely true.  
  
She was ready to trip around the corner when Blaise Zabini walked up to his townhouse. Her long brown coat fluttered about her ankles with the wind and made it easy for her to fall into his arms.  
  
Pressing her hands against chest to ostensibly regain her balance, Hermione peered up at him through snow-fringed eyes. "You look familiar," she breathed, her words almost visible with the exhalation in the cold.  
  
The taller man put two hands on her shoulders to steady her, narrowed his eyes, and said, "Hermione Granger? What are you doing here?"  
  
"I would think," she managed to laugh gaily as she lied, "that would be my question for you. This is a Muggle neighborhood, my parents live just that way. I was, as my mum says, overdue for a visit."  
  
The tension disappeared from his body after he took a furtive look up and down the street. Satisfied, he offered her his elbow. "You almost took a nasty spill. Best come inside so I can check for any injuries."  
  
"Oh, I couldn't."  
  
He smiled charmingly and lifted a paper sack from the nearby snowdrift. "I've some fresh crab rangoon. You'd refuse melting hot cream cheese in a crisp fried wrap? They may be slightly crushed now, but still. You're not half as clever as your reputation suggests."  
  
"Well, if you say it like that. I wouldn't want to ruin my reputation," She took his arm and let him lead her, rather briskly, into his home.  
  
He took her coat before removing his own and gestured her into a smallish, but neat sitting room towards the back of the house while he puttered in the kitchen.  
  
"Coffee? I know it's a bit strange to pair with Chinese but its all I drink."  
  
She laughed, "I've always believed that coffee goes with everything."  
  
"Sugar? Cream?"  
  
"Oh, no, black, thanks. The stronger, the better."  
  
"Exactly," he said pressing one hot mug into her hand and placing his own on the low mahoghany table.  
  
She sniffed appreciatively and sipped the rich beverage while he went back to the kitchen. He returned with a silver service arranged with the promised rangoon, a tureen of egg drop soup, and a few sweet almond biscuits to finish.  
  
She asked him if he'd tried the garlic shrimp at Du Wok, the neighborhood Chinese eatery, and he admitted he had discovered the rangoon and stuck with it. From there, the old classmates were able to enjoy their meal with good conversation. It was only when Blaise had finished his second refill that he noticed the pale pink residue on the bottom of his mug.  
  
"Oh, bother," Hermione said as he passed out, "I thought I'd figured that out."  
  
When he awoke, he was bound rather tightly across his chest and ankles to his chair by an invisible tether.  
  
"I could charge you with poisoning or something." He pushed against his bindings but they only formed closer to his body.  
  
"It wouldn't do you any good. I'm not bound by law. And struggle all you like," Hermione said. "It won't help, but it won't hurt either."  
  
He scowled at her but desisted his squirming, "Isn't there some sort of etiquette about betraying someone you've taken salt with?"  
  
She settled back in the seat across from him, tapping her wand thoughtfully against her thigh. "It's not betrayal if that was the plan all along; it's more like strategy, really."  
  
Blaise muttered, "I'm discussing strategy with a Gryffindor."  
  
"Actually, I rather think I was giving you a much-needed lesson."  
  
He nearly sputtered but instead managed to ask a question. "I suppose you know about the warrant then. Well, you've got me. Book me, officer."  
  
"I'm not with the Ministry, Blaise. I'm a Hunter."  
  
"That's somewhat unexpected. I heard you were in the Academy with your mates."  
  
"Turned out I don't take other people's orders well so I went freelance."  
  
"And you've decided to capture dear old me. Lovely, I'm flattered. Remind me to let you fall next time."  
  
"You're a gentlemen, Blaise, you can't change."  
  
"Then you'll let me go? It's not like you need the money. The pension from your Order of Merlin alone...why work as a Hunter?"  
  
"I like to travel," she deadpanned.  
  
"To London? In the middle of winter? I thought criminals fled to exotic getaways like Jamaica or Guam? Why didn't you go after someone in Jamaica? It's what I would've done."  
  
"Curiousity. Your warrant calls for 'alive and intact," if you know what I mean. I didn't even know that was an option. I've seen 'dead or alive' and I've seen 'please bring back in little pieces,' but I didn't know that reproduction was even an option on the form."  
  
Blaise sighed, "Aunt Leona probably had it written up special."  
  
She quirked her eyebrow. "Leona? Your aunt put fifty thousand galleons on your head? What did you do?"  
  
"Refuse to marry Marcus Flint's sister." He grimaced. "She's got his build...and his teeth. I don't care that I'm cut me out of my inheritance."  
  
"Hmm," she leaned forward and began to tap her wand more rapidly against her leg. "Can you explain the situation to me?"  
  
"Hell, why not." He paused. "Tell me first, how you found me. I've been here for months and no one's bothered me."  
  
"Your ficus, first of all."  
  
"Benjamin?"  
  
"If that's what you named your ficus," she looked at him queerly. "It's the middle of winter, your ficus is outside and blooming happily. And its dropping leaves, which that type is notorious for, but they seem to disappear in midair before they can hit the porch. It reminded me of a spell Sprout taught in fourth year. When I looked around and saw the rows of wormwood, witch's cabbage, and yarrow, I knew something was up. You were relatively quiet about your skill in Herbology at school, but I happened to be one of your customers."  
  
She was, of course, referring to the underground apothecary business Blaise had run at Hogwarts. It was an excellent alternative to stealing potions ingredients from Snape's stores for her 'extracurricular' experiments.  
  
He looked at her sharply, "You never bought from me. I kept excellent records. I waited, but you never did."  
  
"I bought through my Hufflepuff factor. Don't ask because I won't tell you who."  
  
"Bloody Hufflepuffs. They're so easy to underestimate."  
  
"It's part of their charm. Now tell me more about your Aunt Leona."  
  
"She's my great aunt, twice removed actually. The Mater Familias of the Zabini Line. She wants shares in the Flint mines and though marrying me off to an ugly, ill-mannered hag half my age was the way to go about it."  
  
"Did you sign the contract?"  
  
"No. I skipped out when a cousin warned me."  
  
Hermione frowned. "That's just wrong. She can't just give you orders like that."  
  
Blaise rejoiced internally when he vaguely recalled Hermione Granger's reputation for helping the underdog from werewolves to house eleves. "I'm not hurting anyone here. I'm being quiet and nice to all the Muggles."  
  
"Shh, I'm thinking." She hushed him and was shaking the wand wildly now. "You're telling me the truth?"  
  
"Absolutely, I swear."  
  
"Funny you should use that word."  
  
"I can't go to a court, Hermione. She's like Marcus Flint with a bad blonde wig, please, I can't wake up to that every morning."  
  
"You won't be marrying her if you don't want," she promised. "I just want to know if you'd be willing to testify against Leona before the Wizengamot. The Family Acts of 2003 made your aunt's arrangement illegal. Her threat to cut you off worsens the charge. Plus, she intended to contract a minor since the Flint girl would be...what? Twelve. Add in the fact that she put out a warrant for your arrest under false charges, and Leona is in a significant amount of trouble. She may Mater Familias but the Ministry's been looking for someone to make an object lesson. Minister Weasely's eager to prove his hard line and willingness to enforce his laws."  
  
"You're sure about this?" He dared to hope.  
  
"I helped write the bill."  
  
"I could kiss you, if I wasn't tied up."  
  
"I don't mix business with pleasure."  
  
"Ah, but our business here is done. The warrant's null. You said it yourself."  
  
"Well, that one is. I was thinking maybe you'd want to hire me to pick up your dear Aunt Leona?"  
  
"Excellent idea. I like the way you think. But could you knock her out with a big rock instead of a potion?"  
  
"I happen to have a contract right here," she said, flourishing her wand to produce the parchment.  
  
"I'll sign as soon as you untie me."  
  
Hermione settled into her chair again and looked him up and down while he wriggled in obvious discomfort. "No, not quite yet. Let's talk terms first."  
  
Must involve:  
1) Wizarding equivalant to a bounter hunter=Hermione the Hunter  
2) a ficus tree=Benjamin  
3) Muggle sweets=almond cookie  
4) some sort of bondage=invisible bonds  
5) cheese=cream cheese  
  
I initially wanted to have Hermione wearing a tight leather outfit of the Catwoman ouevre under her long coat but, alas, I thought that might tip Blaise off to the fact that she wasn't really visiting her parents. I'd rather have him in leather, anyway. 


End file.
